


The Night We Met

by ScarecrowLullaby



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I literally read every completed work on them while amping myself up to write this, M/M, Series, say goodbye to your feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarecrowLullaby/pseuds/ScarecrowLullaby
Summary: Hannah's death left craters in the chests of those around her. Aside from her parents, none were more impacted than Tony Padilla and Clay Jensen, the only two men who ever protected her from the world. Now they must find a way to survive the aftermath of Hannah Baker, and maybe save each other in the process.





	1. Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> I am very hesitant to return to writing after such a long time, especially with a new story. I apologize for the several I've left unfinished. I am planning to return to those pieces, but this is a book I had a very deep connection with, and that only deepened with the TV series. I am going to be working on this before the others. 
> 
> On to the story, though. This will be a chaptered piece! Yes, that means there will be more! I don't see it being sexually graphic, but there will be eventual Clony. Enjoy!

**Afterlife**

_"I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you."_

 

Loneliness has a thousand shades. Some people are lonely because they're alone. Others because they are surrounded by people who fail to see them for who they are. A select few, though, are lonely because they can't see how many people they have around them.

Tony and Clay, were that kind of lonely. That helpless, suffocation causing, isolating lonely. It pushed them to the brink, and then dragged them to each other. They didn't realize it, not while Tony was busy looking out for everyone but himself, and Clay was busy holding all of the world's problems on his shoulders. Neither of them was able to clue into the fact that they'd stopped being alone the minute Clay accepted Tony's offer for a ride home.

"Hey, Clay, Monet's after school? My French project is looking a little rough." Tony clapped a hand on Clay's shoulder, dropping into the seat next to him. "I wouldn't mind a bit of help from Mrs. Hutchinson's favorite french speaker."

The sudden appearance of the shorter male sent a wave of surprise through Clay Jensen's body, the hair on the back of his neck shooting up as he tried to hide the fact that he'd nearly jumped from his seat. When had Tony gotten so good at sneaking up on people? Maybe while he was stalking people for the tapes -. The teen shut down that train of thought before it even fully formed. He was not going to think about Hannah today. No tapes. No suicide. Just focus on stomaching the prison food they called lunch and surviving the day. That's what he needed, to just keep surviving.

"Yea. Do you want my notes? I finished mine already. You know it's due tomorrow, right?" Even as he spoke, Clay could feel the pressure of his own thoughts setting in. The truth was, he'd half-assed the project. He barely remembered typing the paper, let alone what he'd written about. With the trial and the release of the tapes, school seemed to matter significantly less than it had in the past. Everything was a reminder of Hannah, of how they - _he -_ had failed her.

"That'd be great, thanks, Clay." Silence fell between them. "Something on your mind?" As always, Tony had picked up on Clay's troubles. There was no hiding anything from the other.

Relief, or maybe just numbness, showed on Clay's face.

"I can't stop thinking about her." All of the weight of the world was back on his shoulders. The quiet utterance brought him out of survival mode and returned him to desperation. Hannah Baker was dead, and he had killed her. The tightness in his chest never truly went away at this point, but now it constricted his lungs until he couldn't breathe. He was marked as the friend of the dead girl, these days. The friend who released her tapes and who danced with her at prom. The one who got her to go to that party where they kissed, where they fought and that led to her being alone in the room where she saw Jessica, then she and Sheri knocked of the stop sign and-and-.

Air refused to enter Clay's lungs. Tony was already up, trying to pull him out of his seat and get him somewhere quiet. All he could feel was a dampness on his shirt, his milk leaking from the crumpled carton in his hand. Had it felt like that when she'd done it? Like her life was leaking out and staining the world around her?

"Clay, come back to me." Tony's voice was quiet, but it was impossible to miss the worried tremble it held.

 _Tony._ Clay finally registered the calloused hands on his arms, the soft, worried eyes searching his.

"Come on, Clay, stay with me, I'm gonna take you somewhere quieter, alright?" The Puerto Rican reached down and grabbed Clay's bag, throwing it over his shoulder. "I just need you to focus on me for a while. Can you do that?" Warmth spread from Tony's hands and into Clay's trembling arms, minutely grounding him in reality.

"Yea. Yea, okay." Word's failing him, the boy allowed himself to be led from the cafeteria, away from prying eyes. He didn't know how Tony convinced the office to let them leave. It's possible that the older boy had just left, not bothering to think of the consequences. Clay was grateful either way. As soon as he found himself in the sun warmed interior of Tony's beloved mustang, the world in his head started to quiet.

"Your house or mine?" The soft voice of his companion made the warmth from his earlier touch spread toward his chest. Damned if he knew why, but in that moment all Clay wanted was to wrap himself in Tony's voice, in his touch, with the other boy's staple jacket and hide from the world.

"Mine," he breathed out quietly. It seemed that his lungs had remembered how to function slightly. "My parents are gone until Thursday."

Tony inhaled sharply. Clay being alone on a normal day could spell disaster. Him being on his own lately was likely to lead to Tony witnessing another crime scene. He didn't think that Clay's would come with an explanation, though. Unlike Hannah, the younger boy would just be gone. Permanently.

Thinking his words over carefully, Tony reached over to rest a hand on Clay's shoulder.

"Are you alright by yourself? I can come stay with you until they get back. I don't mind. It'll give me some time to try being a model student for once." Briefly, oh so fucking briefly, Clay smiled. Thank god for small miracles. "I do need to graduate eventually you know." Hesitantly, Tony allowed a smile of his own to appear.

"I'd like if you stayed with me." Something in the way Clay spoke made Tony think he was talking about more than just keeping him company while his parents were away.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Clay fell asleep while helping Tony with his paper. Sleep did little more to relax him than being awake had. The boy sighed, watching helplessly as his friend battled his demons in his dreams. If only Clay knew how much he wanted to take that pain away, hold it on his own shoulders so that his friend might live free of the darkness in his own mind.

A pained sound escaped Clay's lips, pushing another needle into Tony's heart. What he wouldn't give to give Clay the feeling of being safe and loved.

"Clay," he spoke softly, setting his notebook aside. A soft touch to Clay's arm was all it took to pull the boy from sleep. Knowing of the terror that the other faced while he slept hadn't prepared Tony for the look of sheer terror on the boy's face when he woke.

Chest heaving, lungs struggling to accept the air forced into their constricted interior, Clay started to tremble. There were no words in his mind to present an explanation with. Nothing could explain what seeing Hannah every time he closed his eyes was doing to his mind.

"Hannah," he forced out, pushing himself back against the wall. The shadows in his room seemed more threatening than they had before. Had they always been so dark? So extensive? "I saw-I saw her that night we fought. I should have.. should have stayed." Clay's brief monolog faded when the limited air in his lungs expired. Reaching for something, anything to cling to, he brought his eyes up to lock with Tony's. "I can't stop seeing her."

A soft exhalation, the wavering of Tony's eyes, was enough for Clay to knew that the other understood. How often did Tony close his eyes only to see Hanna dropping a box on his porch? Did he spend hours thinking in circles of "what ifs" and "I should haves"? Probably.

"Clay.." Tony's had even fewer words than Clay did. "Come here." Opening his arms, Tony scooted back to sit near his trembling companion. "I'm here, always." A spark of surprise went through him when Clay accepted his comfort and sagged into his arms. Normally he pulled further away from help when he got like this. "We're going to get through this. You drag me, I'll drag you, sound good?" Gently he dropped his arms around the taller boy's body, rubbing a hand over his back soothingly.

"Sounds good," Clay murmured, not bothering to hide the first tears leaking from his eyes. Hanna was gone, and Tony could be gone without a moment's notice, too, but right now he was here, and Clay needed him. Against his better judgment, he let himself be wrapped in the other's embrace, curling to him like a needy child. "Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

Broken didn’t approach the impact that had on Tony’s heart. Hannah had destroyed them both, but Clay seemed to have been impacted even more deeply than he had.  
“Never, I will _always_ be here for you, Clay. I’m not going anywhere.” Tightening his grip on the other, Tony dropped a soft, chaste kiss on the top of his head. A brief thought of Brad crossed his mind, but he snuffed it out. Clay needed him, and he wasn’t going to let his best friend suffer alone. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, pulling Clay against his chest. “You’re safe.”


	2. White Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Clay share a brief, carefree moment. There's nothing dark weighing on their minds, no shadows lurking at the window, just fun, plain and simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want this entire story to be heavy, but I do want it to be a realistic depiction of the recovery process after a traumatic event like Tony and Clay went through. For that reason, here's a little bit of a lighter chapter before we get to the nitty gritty. 
> 
> Soundtrack for this Chapter:  
> Oh Wonder: Technicolor Beat, All We Do, Lose It, White Blood  
> XYLØ: Afterlife, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**White Blood**

_“We are responsible for everything that happens in our lives; responsible, but not guilty.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Something was on fire. Tony’s eyes flew open, then slammed back shut upon the burning assault of the smoke filling the air. His first thought was to his sister in the next room other, his brothers down the hall, then his hand slammed into a side table that he did not have. _Clay._

“CLAY!” Tony’s voice cracked, throat rebelling against the lack of clean air. “Clay?” The bellowing of the smoke alarm overhead made it impossible to tell if the other was trying to answer him. Snagging his beloved jacket from Clay’s desk chair, he used it as a shield between his hand and the… cold doorknob?

“Sorry, Tony!” Clay’s voice, loud and not screaming or pained emitted from downstairs. “I uh, I tried to make breakfast. Did you know that you have to take those sausages out of the plastic before you put them in the oven?” The clatter of a tray hitting the floor replaced Tony’s panic with amusement. “I’m good! Just missed the table, it’s a little smokey!” Sounds of a chair being dragged across the floor preceded the clattering, and shortly after the smoke alarm fell silent. Finally. The echo of its shrill alarm still rang in Tony’s ears.

Taking a deep breath, he tossed his jacket onto Clay’s bed and padded down the stairs in his bare feet. Clay slept with his socks on, and Tony didn’t understand how a person could tolerate that. As soon as his boots came off, so did his socks. Sleeping with them on? Unheard of to the teen. It was a betrayal of all that was good and right in the world. It was almost as bad as using bluetooth. He shuddered at the thought.

“You alright?” he asked, standing in the kitchen doorway to observe the damage. Melted plastic certainly did smoke a lot. Clay began to wobble on the chair he’d used as a booster to reach the smoke alarm. Without thinking, Tony moved across the room, steadying with a hand on the small of his back. “Careful, Jensen.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I wasn’t going to fall. I can manage standing on my own, you know.” Clay paused. “Most of the time.” When Tony gave a pointed look toward the gash on his head, he rolled his eyes. “I fell off of my bike that time, _and,_ if I remember correctly, someone dropping a _rock_ on my head didn’t help it heal any faster.”

A sheepish look crossed the shorter male’s face. He didn’t have an argument for that one.

“Will you just get off the chair?” Holding his hand in place, just in case Clay decided to get wobbly again, Tony made a pointed glance around the room. “I don’t think breakfast is going to clean itself up.”

Clay’s turn to look sheepish.

“Yea, just let me - yea.” Balancing with a hand on Tony’s shoulder, Clay stepped down from the chair without incident. They stood that way for a moment, Clay’s hand resting on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony’s hand on the small of Clay’s back. If anyone had walked in then, they’d both have pulled away from the other quickly. Being as it was just the two of them, though, they let the other’s hand linger for a moment, enjoying the subtle comforting contact.

“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t try to cook too often,” Clay said, finally breaking the silence.

“You’re damn right it’s a good thing.” A huff of laughter escaped Tony’s lips, bring an easy smile to his face. “Next time, leave the cooking to me. You just.. You stick to knowing enough nerd stuff for the both of us.” Patting Clay’s chest lightly, Tony finally pulled away from the other, taking in the mess in front of them. “How do you feel about a day off?”

“Are you asking Clay Jensen to miss a day of school… voluntarily?”

“Is Clay Jensen going to say no?”

Clay shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Good, because this is going take a while to clean up.” The darker skinned male grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and threw them at his taller companion. “We should probably start with the - is that pancake batter? Clay there aren’t supposed to be _chunks_ in it. We should start with that.”

“I’m your padawan, teach me the ways of cleaning Tony style.”

A look of disbelief crossed the dark skinned male’s face.

“Really? Really? A Star Wars reference before 9 am? Is that how this day is going to go?” Tony grabbed a pinch of flour and flicked it at Clay. “You’re not going to convert me, Clay. No way, no how.”

“We’ll see about _\- that_ ,” Clay laughed, ducking to the side to avoid the flour. Retaliating when it still caught him in the face, the taller boy grabbed a handful of pancake batter and launched it back at Tony. Thank the gods he didn’t have his leather jacket on because it splattered all over the front of his shirt.

“Clay Jensen you did _not_ just cover me in pancake batter.” Tony didn’t mind too much, he was more surprised that Clay had managed to actually hit him, but a guy had to protect his reputation.

An eggshell flew across the room, followed by blueberries, and a food war officially began. It was nothing huge, it only last a few minutes, but it was enough to lift their darkened spirits and remove Hannah Baker, the tapes, and the trials from their thoughts. For a few glorious moments, they were just Tony and Clay, two friends having a food fight and ditching school on a Friday.

“Stop, stop! I give up! I surrender!” Clay’s shrill pleas for mercy tangled with Tony’s laughter, the smaller boy cornering him against the fridge, an egg ready to launch at Clay’s chest.

Tony inched forward, mischievous grin spreading over his features. He raised the egg up, cocking his arm back like he was getting ready to throw it.

“You want me to accept your surrender?” Clay nodded like a bobble head, stifling his laughter with a shield of paper towels and an empty box of pancake mix. “Beg me for it, come on Jensen, let me hear it.” He was teasing, not actually expecting Clay to do it, but it was an amusing thought. “I’m waiting,” he laughed, eyes bright and carefree.

“Come on Tony, please don’t egg me,” Clay turned his grey blue eyes to lock with Tony’s, widening them slightly. He added a slight pout, deepened the puppy eyes, watching carefully as Tony continued to approach until he was barely a foot away. Six inches. “Would you really egg a nerd as uncoordinated and oblivious as me?” Cue the full blown puppy eyes.

With a sigh of defeat, Tony stopped, arm dropping to his side. He wasn’t going to do it to begin with, but his heart had skipped a beat, or several, seeing Clay use puppy eyes on him. It was undeniably cute.

“Fine, fine. No egging.” He glanced around, all too aware of how close they were. “We have one hell of a mess to clean up without raw egg added to the mix.” The Puerto Rican made the mistake of dropping his guard to look around the room. Clay took the opportunity to leap forward, grabbing the hand that had the egg in it, and bringing it up to splatter against Tony’s own forehead.

“GOTCHA,” Clay yelled triumphantly, and the war was back on.

By the time the second round of food fighting and the cleaning of the kitchen was done, it was nearly noon and both boys were thoroughly covered in flour, sticky batter, and cleaning supplies.

“I think that’s the last of the flour,” Clay sighed in relief, emptying the dustpan into the trash. “If there’s anything left we can deal with it later. I’m _starving._ ” As if to punctuate his statement, Clay’s stomach growled loudly.

A smile played around Tony’s lips, his hand resting lightly on Clay’s shoulder. He surveyed the kitchen, nodding his head in approval. Two things you didn’t mess with: cars and kitchens. They had definitely done a number on this one, but, with a few hours of TLC, they’d brought it back to it’s former state, maybe even a little better. With Clay’s parents both busy the majority of the time, if Clay didn’t do a deep clean, it didn’t happen. That thought left a bad taste in the back of Tony’s mouth.

“I could go for some chow, you good with burgers and shakes?”

Clay nodded, leaning into Tony’s hand, brushing his shoulder against the other’s chest briefly. The absence of his parents had hit him for a moment, too.

“Yea, burgers, shakes, and a drive?” He turned to meet Tony’s eyes, having a silent conversation with him between words.

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go get changed.” The weight that had rested on their shoulders, though gone for a few fleeting moments, had returned heavier than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! Please, PLEASE, let me know what you think! This is my first time approaching a realistic recovery story and not just focusing on a ship. I'd love to know how you guys think it's going. c:


	3. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is so busy taking care of everyone else that he always forgets about himself. A conflicting day with Clay and a rough time with Brad finally push him to a breakdown. Who else would know better than Clay how to comfort him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! This one is a bit longer to make up for it. I was told that y'all wanted to see some more vulnerable sides of Tony, so here you go!

**Ambient**

_ Desperation is like stealing from the Mafia: you stand a good chance of attracting the wrong attention. _

 

Empty air encircled Tony’s feet, beneath them there was nothing to catch him should he slide forward. All it would take was a few inches of movement, and he’d be plummeting to the ground. Clay had stepped away to answer the call of nature, leaving him alone with his thoughts for the moment. A sigh fell from Tony’s lips. What was he going to do with Clay? They’d grown distant for a brief period after the release of the tapes, but that seemed to be forgotten by the other boy. Tony understood, he’d needed some time to breath, too, but he had worried for his friend in that time. Hell, he’d missed Clay pretty badly on some days. It seemed like Clay was one of the only people who’d always go for a drive with him or just sit and drink hot chocolate at Monet’s. There was no need to talk, they could just coexist peacefully. It was soothing. 

Brad didn’t like it, though. He didn’t understand that he and Clay were friends -  _ just  _ friends. Even now, Brad still bristled at the mere possibility that Tony was with Clay. It was true, he did spend a lot of time with him for just friends, but they had been through some shit together, it made people close like that. So did attraction, though. 

A gentle breeze set the leaves rustling quietly, skittering loose ones over the rock and tumbling over the edge of the cliff to float down to the ground below. Tony’s heart sank with them. If he was attracted to Clay… Another sigh. There was no “if” about it, he was attracted to Clay. Something about their ability to communicate effortlessly, to laugh together and to know what the other needed without asking was incredible to Tony. He’d heard of soul mates but had always dismissed it as something that belonged in sappy chick flicks. Lately, he’d been reconsidering that theory, though. Soul mates had started to seem like something that could be real, like something he could be experiencing. 

The crunch of sneakers on loose stones tore him from his thoughts, bringing his focus back to the present. This rock was where Clay had found out he was gay, and now he found himself wishing he could find out the same about his friend. 

_-_-_-_

Something about Tony was off. He’d been quiet and pensive for the entire second half of their hike and hadn’t even put music on during the drive home. Even when Clay had invited him to stay for dinner, he’d declined without an explanation and gone home. Something was definitely up, and Clay wanted to know what it was. There was a possibility that Tony was just going through another unhelpful Yoda phase, but this was different than his usual quiet spells. It was more profound, more isolating. Nothing totally unusual for Tony unless you knew him as well as Clay did. 

The sun slowly lowered outside of Clay’s window. Lost in thought, it wasn’t until his room had fallen dark that the teen noticed. He’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts to realize how much time was passing. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pushed himself up, stripping off his hoodie. His shoes were kicked off and abandoned in the middle of the floor, a knock on the door startling him as he reached for a towel.  
“Yea,” he called, confused. His parents were supposed to be away until Thursday.

“Hey kiddo,” his dad’s voice answered. “You decent?”

Rolling his eyes, Clay crossed the room and opened the door.

“What’s up, dad? I was about to shower. Aren’t you supposed to be gone until Thursday?” He grabbed the towel off of the back of his chair and held it up as proof. 

“I had to fly through the state and my plane doesn’t leave until morning, so I thought I’d stop home. Didn’t even know you were here until I saw your bag on the couch.” He sighed. “You may want to wait on that shower. He didn’t knock on the door, but Tony’s been sitting outside in his car for about twenty minutes.” His dad paused, leaning against the door frame. “Is everything alright with you boys?” The glasses in front of his face did nothing to mask the concern on his father’s face. “How are you two dealing with the trials? I know it’s a lot for someone who’s been through as much as you have.” The man reached up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell your mother, but, if you need to skip a day or two… I think it might do you some good.”

Worry hit him like a ton of bricks. Had Tony been texting him? Was he here because he thought Clay was going to do something desperate?

“Thanks, Dad, I might take you up on that.” He threw the towel down, cramming his feet back into his shoes. After a second thought, he shoved his keys and phone into his jean pockets. “I’m going to go check on Tony. I, uh, I hope work is going well, and the trip, too.” Without waiting for his dad to reply, Clay booked it down the stairs, nearly tripping over the door mat on his way outside. 

True to his dad’s word, there was the red mustang he’d grown so familiar with. He paused for a moment, breathing in the chilly night air. His exhaled breath rose in a cloud of fog, reiterating the unusual chill of the near autumn night. When his heart had stopped racing, he walked up to the car and knocked on the window.

“Tony?”

The dark skinned boy looked up from his steering wheel with red-rimmed eyes, unlocking the door for Clay. Trying to get control of himself, he gulped down several lungfuls of air, but Clay could still see the distress on his face, in the rigidness of his body.

“Tony, what happened?” He asked cautiously, sliding into the passenger seat and reaching over to rest a hand on the other’s shoulder. Tony didn’t cry in front of him, he was always the strong one, the rock of their friendship, and seeing him like this shook Clay to the core. 

Tony was silent for a moment. He took the time to compose himself, straightening his jacket, drying his eyes, breathing deeply to steady himself. The weakness he’d displayed when Clay arrived was swept back under the rug it had tried to escape from. He didn’t break down in front of people, he was supposed to be the one who helped others through their breakdowns. Tony Padilla was there for support, not to ask for it. At least that’s what he was telling himself. Clay’s hand brushed the back of his neck, thumb smoothing over the fine hairs there. That touch of comfort undid him again. Tears welled up, his chest tightened, and they fell. Dark splatters appeared on his jeans, evidence of his current weakness.

“Hey,” Clay’s voice came softly. “Tony, talk to me.” There was a rustling of fabric and Clay was suddenly much closer. He knew the boy couldn’t be comfortable leaning over so far, the cassettes were probably digging into his side. Clay didn’t make a sound, though, just leaned over, as far as his position would let him, and slipped an arm around the smaller male’s body. “I’ve got you,” he breathed. “You can cry if you need to, Tony, I won’t judge you.”

Tony did cry, then. His sobs came all at once, hands coming up to fist Clay’s shirt. It registered briefly that Clay didn’t have a hoodie on, but all he could focus on after that was trying to breathe through his sobs. It all came out, the guilt from not talking to Hannah when she was at his porch, neglecting Brad while they were dealing with the tapes, anxiety over the trials, fear that he would lose someone else the way that he’d lost Hanna. He was so afraid of losing someone else. It plagued his thoughts every time Clay took a little too long to answer his texts, or any time Jessica had another drink from her flask, any time Tyler was alone in the Cafeteria. He obsessed over protecting them, from the world and from themselves. Nothing was more dangerous to a person than their own mind, their own whirlwind of emotions. 

A soft, uncertain touch cut through his mind’s collapse. Tony thought he’d imagined it for a moment, but it repeated, just as uncertain as the first time. Clay’s long fingers combed through his hair, attempting to sooth him. This, for some reason, made Tony’s sobs fade to sniffles, a quivering smile slipping onto his lips. 

“You know how much gel is in my hair, right?” He laughed quietly, it was a stuttering sound, but it was better than the broken sobs he’d been emitting before.

Even in the darkness, the blush across Clay’s face was unmistakeable. Awkward even on the best of days, the teen now fumbled over his words until he dropped his eyes to the tapes in the center console. He withdrew slightly but kept one arm around Tony’s shoulders.

“I hate to tell you this, Tony, but most of it is gone by this point of the day. Your hair is actually kind of Daniel Radcliffe meets Zac Efron right now.” A shit eating grin split over Clay’s face, even as Tony reached over to punch his chest. “What! It does!” he laughed, gladly taking the abuse to make his friend smile. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Tony shot back, pulling down the sun visor to use the mirror. His hair was half of his reputation, he couldn’t just let it run amok. Quickly pushing his hair somewhat back into place, Tony felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. Clay was the only one who could do that, lately. Take his panic, his guilt, and erase it with a dorky joke or awkward moment. It was endearing. 

“Brad broke up with me,” he admitted bluntly. Clay’s inhale was clearly audible, and Tony locked his eyes onto the mirror so he wouldn’t have to see the look of pity on the other’s face. “I think he’s been wanting to for a while. I have been thinking it might be for the best the past few weeks, too.” A heavy sigh fell from his chapped lips, and Tony finally looked over at Clay. He was pleasantly surprised to see the worry on his friend’s face instead of the anticipated pity.

“Do you need anything?” Clay ventured uncertainly. “My dad dropped in randomly, but he said he’s leaving first thing in the morning. I’m sure he won’t mind if you stay over.”

“I’ll be alright,” Tony sighed. “It was just unexpected for it to happen today.” He let his head fall back against the headrest. “I wouldn’t mind staying over, though.” Clay retracted his arm, and Tony immediately missed its warmth. “Sorry I didn’t text,” he continued. “I’m not very good at seeking help. I normally just give it.” He shrugged. “Thank you, Clay. For being here, I mean.”

“Yea, man, no worries.” Clay shrugged back, smiling at him uncertainly. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Tony laughed. “Alright, I’m coming.” He sat forward and shrugged his jacket off. “Mind if we go for a walk, first? Just to get a bit of fresh air.” Pulling the jacket out from behind him, he extended it to Clay. “You can wear this since it’s cold.”

Clay hesitated for a minute, knowing how it would look to wear someone else’s jacket while taking a late night stroll with them. After a moment of internal debate, though, he decided he didn’t care. Tony was his friend, his  _ best  _ friend, so what if he wore his jacket? 

“Okay, I can do that.” Clay took the jacket, tugging it on. It was a little shorter than his hoodies, but it fit well otherwise. “Lead the way,” he said with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> How did that go? Did you guys like it? Tell me what you think, please! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. <3


End file.
